


Will you trust me for the rest of our lives?

by Tod (naughtod)



Series: Yes, I do [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fluff and Smut, Love and trust, M/M, Making Love, Morning After, Porn with Feelings, Trans Male Character, Wedding Night, again i think it has a plot but ya know how i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtod/pseuds/Tod
Summary: They're head over heels, hopelessly in love with each other, desperately, lovingly, and even now, they still surprise each other by how big is that love.





	Will you trust me for the rest of our lives?

**Author's Note:**

> me: *reads the best wedding fic ever*  
me: *loses my mind and hopes they never see this*

Launchpad has to be dreaming, he is going to wake up in the garage where he had to find he fell asleep on the couch and when he asks for Drake and Gosalyn, someone is going to reply _"whom?"_ and look at him like he has gone completely insane. And maybe he has.

Because there was no way that Drake, this man that has accepted to give him his heart so completely and unapologetically for years to come, is walking through the hotel suite with his white button-up shirt from his wedding suit, so big on him that he can barely see his hands or his tights. He looks tired but happy, a faint smile on his beak while he leaves a glass of water on the mini-kitchen of the suit, and he fixates on his hand and the wedding ring that shines brighter than Scrooge’s dime, reminding him of everything that happened from yesterday to this moment.

Their clothes are scattered around all the room without a care (plus an original, homemade Darkwing Duck costume that Launchpad is gonna be forever doomed to not look in the same way ever again, thanks to Drake and his mad sewing skills and stubborn memory for pointless conversations), and Drake has to be really tired because he’s really ignoring the disaster across the floor.

Launchpad doesn't even realize he's staring at him with a smile and Drake is staring back and walking to him, happy and blushing that Launchpad is so fixated on him.

"Good afternoon, _husband_," Drake whispers as he sits down beside him on the bed, leaning to give him a chaste kiss that's no less lovely for its brevity. That snaps him out of his daydreaming.

This is real, Drake is beautiful and tired, and his voice raspy with sleep and kissing him in the afternoon after an early morning of lovemaking after their wedding reception, and Gosalyn is probably causing havoc at McDuck Manor where she's staying for the three days of their honeymoon. Yes, only three days, because _someone_ —Drake— can’t stay too long away from work and, more specifically, Gosalyn.

_Not that I could either_, Launchpad thinks. A longer honeymoon is absolutely nothing, compared to the incredible, too-good-to-be-true-feeling when _their_ daughter slams into him to hug in the morning and, the satisfying feeling of stopping yet again another evil-doer at the side of the love of his life.

He can't believe this wonderful life is his. His to cherish and protect.

Maybe he is luckier than Gladstone.

He sighs and closes his eyes when he feels Drake's fingers playing lazily with his hair. His body is still a little sore, his muscles strained and maybe his butt is a little uncomfortable, so the soft, lovely touch is well received. He only opens them again when he hears Drake humming softly and when Launchpad looks up he can see him smiling beautifully down at him.

_What a sight._ Launchpad hums with pleasure, happy simply to see him happy, and with all the adoration in his heart, he takes Drake's hand in his and kisses every finger and then the palm. Drake sighs and caresses his cheek with that same hand, Launchpad leaning into it and still holding it dearly, feeling so ridiculously happy he thinks again this might as well be a torrid fever dream.

His voice is still rough from slumber and, hoarse and deeply, he whispers against the palm of his hand: "Good afternoon, my dearest husband. How are you feeling?"

Drake reacts to it positively, his cheeks dusting in pink as he bites his lower bill with obvious joy and instead of answering, he gets under the covers again, decided to sleep again on the soft, king-sized bed with his now-husband. Launchpad immediately pulls him into his arms, Drake smiling at him and giving him a peck.

"I think I should be the one asking that considering you passed out on me last— well, this morning," Drake answers a little mischievously, his hands playing with the feathers on his chest. Launchpad huffs an embarrassed laugh, hugging Drake tighter against him.

"Have I ever told you that you are really, like you say, resilient?"

"Oh, not that much in sex, compared to other things." Compared to how much he could resist a literal bomb exploding in his face? That could be discussed.

"Drake, you were going to ask me for a tenth round before I passed out."

It isn’t an exaggeration, maybe their firsts times had been exhausting for both of them, Launchpad had had years without a sexual encounter, though all his experience was still very active in his mind and he could very well read Drake like a comic book, and while it hadn’t been that long for Drake, he didn’t have the same experience and had never lasted with a partner long enough to even get accustomed to someone, less to someone of Launchpad’s size. But they discovered soon enough that the more Drake got used to him, the more he wanted and gave.

He has an insane energy, one that no matter how hard or intense the sex is, never drains, like he gains more of it instead. When Drake said that time that he’s incredibly strong and resilient, he wasn’t playing around. It is the pure truth, and Drake reminded him of it very well that morning, asking for more and more and giving the same in return. And damn, Launchpad wishes he can give him absolutely everything he wants.

"Oh, shut up, like you don't like my stamina.” Drake blushes at his words, frowning a little. “When you passed out, I fell asleep anyways."

"I'm not complaining!" He immediately replies with an enthusiastic smile, Drake doesn't seem convinced so he continues: "I didn't pass out by choice, ya know? If it was for me, I would give ya all the rounds you wanted. I love your stamina!"

Drake hums happily at that, finally pleased. "You better do, because now you're married to it."

Launchpad's smile grows at that, just as big as his whole being, the word _married_ lifting his heart over the clouds and giving him such a euphoria shot that with little to no warning, he jumps at Drake with an overjoyed laugh, screaming _“yes, married!”_ and crushing him to the bed, hearing Drake gasp and eating that sound with a devouring, electrifying kiss. Drake’s hands don’t waste time, immediately burying themselves in his hair and practically fucking it, like magnets his legs surround his waist and he’s humming and whimpering into the deep kiss. Launchpad suddenly stops kissing him, towering over him and showing him his wedding band.

Launchpad is almost vibrating with excitement as he shouts: “I’m married, DW!”

Drake can’t help but laugh just as giddily, showing him his own wedding band, “I know, LP, I’m married to you.”

“Yes!” he screams, scooping Drake into his arms and kissing every little available place on that hand, especially the ring, Drake giggling and trying to make him stop. “We are married!”

It’s exhilarating in a puerile way, they have rings, wedding rings, and there’s nothing more than that in their minds as they embrace until Drake moves to try to stop Launchpad from kissing his whole face, their pelvises graze and the mood changes abruptly. Drake moans suddenly, stilling and burying himself in the pillows, his hands squeezing Launchpad’s shoulders in an attempt to not move that much. Launchpad moans too, the sudden stimulation taking him as out of guard as Drake, he hadn’t even noticed he had an erection, but that thrilling sensation spoke for itself.

They look at each other for a moment that feels eternal, then Drake makes the decision for them both.

Sometimes Launchpad forgets how physically strong Drake is, but it's in moments like these when it's the only thing on his mind. Before he can’t even come to tell Drake something, he was already on his back jailed by Drake’s strong body, him looking at Launchpad from above, raised in front of him like a wonderful being, his button-up shirt covering Drake like it wants to swallow him whole and that shouldn’t affect him that much but it does.

Launchpad looks at him like he wants to worship him, he wants to spoil him, give him everything he wants.

And Drake feels himself unraveling in that gaze.

_That look on Launchpad's face is way too dangerous_, Drake thinks, his hands traveling down_, down, down_, until Launchpad closes his eyes with a guttural groan, his head falling back into the pillow while Drake smiles satisfied at the reaction. He kisses his chest and Launchpad moans at it, one of Drake’s hand now stroking softly his cock and the other massaging his sensible chest. _But well? Wasn’t that their jobs?_

"What about giving me that tenth round now, _husband?_"

Launchpad breathes deeply, “Anything you want, _husband_.”

That’s more than enough for Drake.

“Drake, come on.”

His mischievous laugh comes, and Launchpad groans, knowing what it means.

"Honey, please," comes the pleading, and he hears Drake hum in consideration, only for him to tease him even more, his dick grinding against his own in a rhythmic measured manner. He immediately grunts deeply, and that only seems to encourage Drake, his pace slowing down and picking up at random intervals and playing with Launchpad’s heartbeat. They didn't have much time to tease each other when they first got into the hotel room, too desperate to get at each other in every way possible after their first-round to put in that effort in the other eight, but Drake seems to be trying to make up for that lost time.

Launchpad’s eyes trace Drake’s body, his hair is a complete mess, a few strands sticking to his forehead; his eyes are half-lidded and his smile is lopsided, a glint in them that is making Launchpad weak; the feathers of his neck are ruffled, looking like a treat every time Drake lets his head fall back with a grunt; the shirt is starting to fall from one side, letting him see his shoulder and the well-defined muscles of his arm, keeping Launchpad pressed to the bed with unimaginable strength; to not mention his powerful legs at every side of him, making him rise and fall over Launchpad, teasing his nerves like a wave.

Drake raises himself again, this time stopping there with Launchpad’s cock in hand, and with carefulness, he sits on it until his head is inside Drake’s wet entrance. Even through the condom Launchpad can feel the heat, groaning so hard that he has to close his eyes, grabbing Drake’s waist like a lifeline. Drake moans too, only to rise himself again and go down again, this time staying there a little longer, not moving an inch more or less, and then he rises again.

His legs go down again, Launchpad grunts both delighted and frustrated, Drake hums pleased and with a giggle, he rises himself again.

Drake is playing him like a fiddle, and as much as he wants to just make Drake sit on him, his eyes, harsh and determined and playful, have him completely unable to do anything more than to look at him, being completely at his mercy. It's driving Launchpad crazy.

His legs’ strength holds him up like it’s nothing, Launchpad wonders and admires it.

He realizes, remembering the original Darkwing Duck costume that is somewhere in the room, it’s their honeymoon, right? Prove new things and all that. Right? He wants to worship him, and he has an idea of how.

"Drake," he moans again, but this time with another thing on his mind. Drake rolls his eyes affectionately, not knowing what Launchpad was about to ask him.

"Fine, fine, I'll—"

"Please, ride my face."

Drake blinks, that is definitely not what he expects at all.

“Excuse me, you want me to ride what?” he stammers out, not quite believing what he heard, sitting slowly on Launchpad’s lap with a shy expression, forgetting completely the cock that he was teasing.

Drake is certainly beautiful when embarrassment actually overpowers him, his feathers getting a beautiful pink, his brows furrow and he gets defensive in an endearing way, but right now he looks like that and _he looks completely thrown out the loop_, looking lost and kinda mad at his own confusion, and Launchpad kinda wants to laugh charmed at his confused puppy expression, but forces himself not to do that in case Drake gets petty and decides that he doesn’t want to ride his face (nor his cock).

“Drake, I kinda want you to sit on my face.”

“Kinda? On your face?”

“Well, yah, more like definitely but uh, that’s the gist of it.”

Drake is humming, his expression now furrowed in concentration, he speaks softly after a while: “Isn’t that a little...?”

Launchpad immediately smiles cheekily, “dange—?”

“Don’t you dare, I was gonna say risky,” Launchpad laughs, there is not helping that, but Drake just sighs with a little amused smile, then he looks at him seriously, “I’m serious, Launchpad. What if I hurt your neck or I suffocate you or something? I don’t wanna be Darkwidower Duck now.”

Launchpad giggles at the pun but Drake sounds genuinely worried, and Launchpad takes onto himself to reassure him. He sits up, hugging Drake by his waist to kiss him as softly as he can until he hears Drake sigh and smile against his beak. He takes Drake’s cheek, looking at him directly with an affectionate gaze. “Hey, remember our first time?”

Drake giggles, taking the hand that is on his cheek with care. He sighs dreamily, “hard to forget that.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

“That I love you?”

“Yeah!” he shouts completely delighted by the reminder, Drake can only giggle, pleased at Launchpad’s uninhibited happiness. Launchpad looks bashful next, saying, “but I actually mean before that.”

Drake hums, scratching his memories, and his eyes light up in realization before laughing happily. _Ah, but of course._ “I said I trust you.”

Launchpad then nods, taking both his hands into his, stroking with his thumb the wedding ring that shined under the light of the room, he kisses it before looking at Drake again.

“The same goes here, ya know? I trust you a whole lot. If you say no, or if I do it, we stop. I swear I’ll kick you off the bed if you start killing me,” Drake snorts at that, Launchpad huffs a laugh, “I just need to know if you wanna, that’s all. If not, we go in a good ol’ ride! I married the best cowboy!” then, Launchpad proceeds to shout a very genuine_ “Yeehaw!” _that finally breaks Drake into a hysteric laughing fit, snorting and giggling, hiding his face in his hands trying to muffle his ugly laugh from resounding in the room. Launchpad beams at it, loving that laugh with all his heart, kissing his hands and trying to coax them out of his face.

“Ok, ok,” Drake snorts, calming down a little. He keeps giggling when he says: “Junior Woodchuck honor that you will stop me if I start killing you?”

Launchpad raises his hand seriously, “Junior Woodchuck honor.”

Drake smiles, taking Launchpad’s hand into both of his, the one where the ring shines and kisses it. “Then, fine. I _do_ want to, I just don’t wanna be a widower literally a day later after we got married.” Launchpad smiles cheekily at that, Drake looks between them, the forgotten cock digging at his stomach, “or to waste a perfectly good condom.”

Launchpad’s arms tighten around his middle, his erection starts to stir again pressed between their bodies, excited yet again with the prospect of pleasing Drake in that wholehearted way. Drake hums at the feeling, Launchpad smiling mischievously at him. “Hey, who says it’s gonna go to waste, resilient husband?”

“_Oh_.” And that’s that.

There’s something very specific about laying down on the bed for Drake’s pleasure _—being at his complete mercy and massaging his legs that are spread over his head— _that has Launchpad feeling nervously excited, his feet curling and uncurling at the prospect. It isn’t like it’s his first time eating him out or eating someone out in general, but this? This complete trust for someone that loves him just as much as he loves them? He has never done that. Everything is always new and unknown with Drake, even after years together and finally being married, but they are always just as exciting and joyful, full of something reliable that Launchpad can only address to Drake.

Even _his_ shirt that Drake has on and barely grazes Launchpad’s skin and works as some unprompted veil for him to only see Drake’s inner tights is getting him excited.

“You ready, big guy?” Launchpad wants to groan deeply just by that nickname alone.

He answers by squeezing Drake’s legs and kissing his tights, making him sigh and close his eyes. Drake lets himself fall slowly and carefully over Launchpad’s beak, but Launchpad, impatient as he was right now, can’t help but raise his head and kiss his dick, Drake whimpering and just falling on him, pressing his head to the bed, and Launchpad finally resolves at what he wants to do, taking his hips and putting himself to work.

He takes his dick in his mouth first, licking slowly all over it, Drake’s legs trembling and unconsciously spreading more at the sides of his head, still trying not to move too much down, but still whimpering and moving almost imperceptibly against Launchpad’s beak. He kisses it, feeling fingers knot at his hair and pulling very hesitantly like he wants to fuck his face but it’s still anxious about it. Launchpad grunts against it, he has to find a way for Drake to relax and do it because just the insinuation of it it’s getting him harder.

He moves to his entrance, licking a strip from bottom to top, hearing Drake gasp in surprise that soon enough changes to pleasure, pulling his hair harder now and little by little losing his reserves, unraveling in the way Launchpad’s tongue traveled up and down his hole and inside him, getting Drake wetter and wetter with every curl of his tongue around his dick. Launchpad being encouraged by every pull of his hair that was harder than the last one, with every deeper groan, with every trust in his beak that was firmer. Drake is little by little losing his mind, and Launchpad is sure to make that happen.

He uses every bit of knowledge he has of Drake’s body, hearing him whimper and moan over him, until finally, _finally_ —when Launchpad fucked his entrance with his tongue, moved his hand to stroke his flesh and the other kneaded _that_ spot in his inner tight, all at the same time— it pays off in Drake groaning his name so deeply Launchpad thinks his heart will stop, Drake loses all pretense of caution, grabs his hair with all his strength _and rides his face_, fucking it in the process.

It’s perfect, _Drake is perfect._ His weight on his beak, his forceful ride, his cries and groans filling his head with pride and excitement, and his hand on his hair encouraging his tongue. Launchpad’s breath is starting to fail him a bit, his nose trying to suck onto more air than it could, his beak getting a little sore, but that only adds to the exhilarating feeling, forgetting about all as easily as he loses himself in Drake, working him over and being dragged by the unbroken feeling of bliss and the familiar taste of Drake’s arousal.

Launchpad wants more and more, he wants to hear Drake screaming his name and to drain all his energy in one sitting, and driven by some rushed, excited feeling he takes a breath and sits up out of the blue, using his strength to easily drag Drake with him over his shoulders, stabilizing his legs with his hands completely around them, and eats him up like he’s the perfect meal after three days lost in the desert.

Drake screams his name out of shock when he sits up, and just as out of nowhere he desperately moans it as loudly when Launchpad’s tongue keeps fucking him and sucking him off with just as much enthusiasm as before.

Drake doesn’t know what is it, maybe is the sudden uninhibited display of brutal strength to hold him so easily over his shoulders, or the lack of any support in the air except for Launchpad and Launchpad only, or the realization that his husband is so excited about this that his decisions are erratic and consuming Drake’s every last bit of the control he thought he had. But Drake is suddenly too aware of his arousal building faster and faster and overwhelming him.

His hands tangle in Launchpad's hair, grabbing a handful of it, trying desperately to hold onto something that could make him feel less insane, and keeps moving even with the danger of falling off. Launchpad uses his hands to push him harder against his beak, helping Drake to keep fucking and riding his face, his arms completely around Launchpad’s head like holding for dear life, panting and moaning and cursing in the air.

It fills Launchpad with pride, to be able to make Drake feel like this, so pleased out of his mind that he gets sloppier and sloppier, the more desperate he is for Launchpad.

A particularly desperate thrust against his beak throws Launchpad’s balance off, making them fall to the bed with a squeak. Launchpad barely has time to stop him from crushing his beak, but he does thrust harshly against him again. And he kind of comprehend now why Drake loves it so much when he smothers him. He snorts at their clumsiness at the same time that Drake picks himself up a little to ask him if he’s okay with a laugh.

They give themselves the time to laugh it off euphorically until Launchpad playfully kisses his thigh wiggling his brows and Drake, biting his lower bill, nods eagerly. They do it again, but this time without any of their previous caution.

Drake rides his face harshly, dirtier and sloppier than the last time, pulling his hair to fuck it and sending electric shocks of pleasure through Launchpad’s body, his cock getting harder by the minute. The sounds get more obscene, Launchpad’s moans encouraging Drake’s thrusts and getting him wetter, new waves of slick running down his tongue. He can hear Drake stuttering and screaming his name, hearing that telling edge at the end of it that could make finally come, and Launchpad gives it his all.

He takes Drake’s arms harshly with one hand, getting a surprised yelp and throaty moan when he urges him to stay crushing his beak, using his free hand to both fuck his hole and tease his dick, his tongue running all over him, fingers in and out and not letting Drake move and give the space in between. It’s the best feeling ever, when Drake’s legs tense in that telling way around his head and with little to no warning, he comes all over his face but shouts harder than Launchpad had ever heard him, even surprising him, and Drake pushes himself off of him and falls onto his back.

Launchpad sits up in shock and it only takes his fingers grazing Drake’s skin over the shirt for him to scream desperately.

** _“Don’t!”_ **

Launchpad raises his hands in alarm, and doesn’t dare to touch Drake at all after that rejection, watching with untold pride and excitement the spams Drake was going through, moaning like waves of pleasure were hitting him one after the other, panting between moans, curling and uncurling his feet and back arching off the bed with his muscles twitching. Launchpad blinks, waiting patiently and unraveling at the sight, though his fingers moved nervously with the desire to touch Drake to be sure he’s alright (or just to touch him, in general).

Drake finally stops twitching after a while, letting out a long-drawn breath of relief, sagging in the bed like he weighs nothing, not moving a muscle but smiling pretty happily. Launchpad, tentatively, moves one of his hand until he grabs his waist and after no sign of rejection, he scoops Drake into his arms like he has no bones inside his body, Drake humming with delight. He hasn’t even opened his eyes yet.

Launchpad’s heart is hammering against his chest. Was that—? Did Drake just—?

Was that even really possible?

“Drake. Hey, babe. You feeling alright?”

“Never better, big guy,” he slurries almost unintelligible with a funny laugh and if Launchpad hasn’t been especially concentrated on him, maybe he would have missed the answer. He waits for a better explanation, but Drake only moves with his breathing, falling completely silent.

“Drake, are you gonna—?”

Pass out.

Drake passed out, satisfied smile on his face, breathing regularly and softly. Launchpad blinks surprised out of his mind that Drake, whose energy seemed to be infinite, is now completely out of service. Launchpad huffs out a laugh, amused at the sight of Drake in his arms with that little contented smile. Launchpad smiles with some juvenile proudness that he got Drake so out of his mind that he passed out, all that energy finally draining out of his body.

He stays there, observing Drake’s chest going up and down with his evened breathing, trying to remember all the things he did just to see if he could replicate it again, watching him with all the adoration his body could carry and more.

It takes him several minutes, watching Drake in his arms like he’s the only thing that exists in this world until he realizes they actually wasted a perfectly good condom for their honeymoon at the end.

Launchpad laughed to himself as quietly as he could to not wake up his husband. It was more than worth it, a complete but even greater kind of satisfaction running through his veins. An orgasm could never provide him with this happiness.

Not even in his wildest dreams, he could see this.

This was real, Drake was beautiful and real and sleeping in his arms like the happiest person in the world thanks to him. And Launchpad still wants to give him more.

_And he will_, he thinks as he kisses the wedding ring in Drake's hand. _He will._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this has a part two (the actual wedding night, or early morning?) that has to do with that original, homemade Darkwing Duck costume hahaha, so wait for it, I guess (maybe I will finish it before the hiatus hits its end lol)
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! (they keep me going to write *wink* *gun fingers*)
> 
> If you wanna talk, I have a [Tumblr](https://naughtod.tumblr.com/) or, better. follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/naughtod).


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